


The Replacement

by doomboyred



Category: Baldi's Basics (Video Game)
Genre: Anxiety, Co-workers, F/M, Female Protagonist, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Middle School, Phone Calls & Telephones, Sadism, Stalking, Threats of Violence, Workplace
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 04:16:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15833583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doomboyred/pseuds/doomboyred
Summary: Mid-year, you were to take the place of another math teacher, take over his lessons and finish what he had started. You were the miracle the students were praying for, they saw you as their savior- despite your ignorance to the entire situation. Your ignorance to what kind of man the original teacher really was.The longer you stay and the more you get to know your coworkers, the more you want to leave, to escape while you still could. But the students, they needed you, and you weren't going to give up so soon.*cross posted on wattpad under doomboyred*





	The Replacement

The sound of heels clacking against the hard floors echoed through the hallways of E.L., panicked and rushed. She was late! On her first day of all days too. 

Every classroom she passed were already seated with students, and just as she went to turn the corner she passed her boss. She looked down and went to mutter a good morning before he put a finger in her face. The Principle always looked like he hadn’t slept in days, and in contrary to your professional work attire, he wore a large grey  sweater and messy brown hair. His eyes were lidded heavily, which made it hard to make out the true color of them. He shook his finger and swirled his coffee in the cup in his other hand. 

“No running in the halls” 

You nodded and he continued pass you, taking a sip of his coffee. It was fine. You reached your destination anyway. You expected your new students to be standing outside, waiting for you impatiently but they weren't. The blinds for the door were drawn so you couldn’t see inside besides the fact that the light was on. The door seemed to be locked as well, as you tried the doorknob a couple of times panicked before beginning to rummage through your bag, remembering that you had a key. However before you could pull it out, the door was yanked open and you were standing face to face with a green sweater. Looking up, you saw none other than the teacher you would be stepping in for. 

“Good Morning, Ms. (L/n)” he said, his voice flat and his eyes focused on yours. Heat flooded to your face in that moment, and you looked down at his shoes. Oh god you must’ve looked liked an idiot, all panicked and out of breath. “G-Good morning.” 

Mr. Baldimore was tall. Really tall. 

His limbs were long and skinny, giving him a sort of spider-like appearance. He was bald, well, he only had one cowlick of hair on his head, and when you met at the staff meeting a couple days prior, the first thing that came to mind was to pluck it. 

He stepped aside and gestured you to come in with a tilt of his head. You walked into the classroom, flustered, and when you tripped on your feet- you could feel everyone’s eyes focused on you which caused your face to redden more, the dead silence of the room not really helping at all. 

“Now be good class, I don’t want to hear any bad things about you from Ms. (L/n), alright?” his voice was fake and nasally, nothing like the way he greeted you coldly at the door. You started to notice the tense atmosphere; one of the students had slid their head down onto the desk shaking while another stared at your peer with wide eyes, clutching their pencil with their life. “I hope they won’t be any trouble to you, Ms. (L/n). Have a nice day.” And the bald man left, closing the door behind him gently. 

You let out a sigh and went to pull the curtains in the classroom, letting in some natural light and air before placing your bag on your desk. You picked up a piece of chalk and began to write your name, feeling their eyes analyze your every move, none of them daring to speak. When you were done, you spun on your heels and took a deep breath. 

“Hello class, I am Ms. (L/n). I will be your new eighth grade mathematics teacher from this point forward.” You were expecting some sort of response, verbal or physical, but they just stayed there, unchanged, staring at you. These are middle schoolers, they should be rowdy and talkative from Spring Break, but they weren't. One of the students in the front row slowly raised his hand. “Yes?” “...does this mean.. Baldy won’t be teaching us anymore?” he said in the quietest whisper.

‘ _Baldy_?’ you thought, ‘ _Did they mean Mr._ -’ All of the students noticed the way he referred to their former teacher and turned to face him, some glaring while the others had a look of horror as if their cover was blown. The look he gave in realization of what he said broke your heart as he slapped a hand over his mouth and sunk in his seat. 

“No… no he wont” The heavy air in the room lifted almost immediately as they sighed in relief. You could hear them coming back to life- the silence in the room gone as sounds of them shifting in their seats filling the empty void. 

You were curious, curious as to why the students acted this way. The period was already halfway over, and you wanted to ask them questions instead of going on with what you had planned for the day, but you couldn’t. The student directly in front of you gave you an expression as if reading your mind, stopping you from thinking about asking. 

They would have to tell you. 

Some of them began to whisper now, as if testing the waters for any malicious reaction from you, only to find nothing of the sort. You went back to your desk, which had already been organized to your liking the day earlier, opening a drawer and taking out a bundle of papers held together by a paper clip. The class focused on you once again as you handed out the sheets. 

“This worksheet is to help me get to know you better, as the attendance was already filled- I thought it would be a fun activity to break the ice” you smiled at them encouragingly. “We’ll start with you there.”

The child who had been picked flinched hard in response before scanning the paper over and over again. “Say your name and answer the first question on the page, we will go down each row until everyone has introduced themselves,” you explained. The student looked at you and down at the paper, and then back to you. You nodded, trying to encourage him to begin. He stood up slowly, “I-I’m James and the last movie I watched was…” the boy was hesitant with answering, “... barbie: the island princess”  
A couple of his classmates giggled, you didn’t expect him to be so honest. He looked at you quickly, “F-for my younger sister!” It was your turn to laugh at his cuteness, lightening the mood of the room. Everyone seemed to pick up on it and the room began to fill with a positive aura. 

“My name is Laura and... I don’t _really_ like chocolate” 

And the class collectively reacted in disbelief. 

 

-.-.-.- 

 

First period was the most stressful, the slow start and the tense atmosphere in the room definitely scared you a bit, but you were able to take them out of it, and the positive sense lingered, rubbing off on the students after in a sort of chain reaction. You were glad the day was halfway over, and you hoped that the students talked with the others in their grade sparing you the awkward stares and hesitant speech, although you knew that would come either way. 

You sat in the teacher’s lounge, with your laptop in front of you, legs crossed and lunch in hand. It was a simple sandwich, nothing too extravagant. You went in to take a bite before stopping suddenly feeling a pair of eyes on you. The sensation of eyes on your skin were like the red heat that appeared from a laser, a pair of dots molesting your skin. Call it a sixth sense, but there was never a time where you didn't have that ability.

Looking up from your laptop and casually scanning the room, your eyes met none other than ‘Baldi’ (a nickname that stuck with you the moment your student mentioned it), who had his cheek in his palm leaning into it as he slouched in his chair. His head was tilted downward towards the piece of cake in front of him, his other hand playing with it as he held the fork, but his eyes stared up at you. Like how a lion watches a gazelle: predatory and focused. 

He was watching you, thinking about something. But he wasn't looking through you, but at you, obviously revealing that the ‘something’ he was think about, was you. 

Was he upset? 

Putting down your sandwich, you gave him a light-hearted wave, trying to get him to stop as passive as you could. 

He didn’t. 

He didn’t stop as he got up from his seat with his things and situated himself in the seat in front of you. 

This wasn't what you wanted. 

“How are they” 

“Excuse me?” 

“How are my students” 

He asked with such an annoyance in his tone it was almost like he didn't want to speak to you at all, despite coming all the way over here. 

“They’re…” you couldn’t really think of what to say. The kids seemed to really dislike him, considering how they thanked what ever higher force that gave you to them as soon as you told them he would no longer be teaching them. “They’re good kids,” you finished, averting your gaze back to your computer screen. “I just hope they like me, I mean, I wouldn’t want to be remembered as something bad.” 

“You shouldn’t worry about being remembered as ‘something bad’ but rather as being remembered a bad teacher” he stated flatly, never looking away from you. 

You couldn’t help but feel he was angry at you for something. Was he mad that he was transferred out of the grade? That question only led to more questions. Why was he transferred out? Did it have to do with the kids? 

“I suppose your right,” you bit your sandwich nervously, a little self-conscious from his constant staring. 

“So,” you coughed out awkwardly, “How was it like with the six graders? They must still have that elementary feel to them.” 

“Oh,” he finally blinked and the corners of his mouth lifted. The way he said it was different, it was nasally like when he spoke to the students. Like it was forced--fake, even. “I’ve taught six graders before so I know exactly how to **deal** with them. It’s no big deal- just the rush from switching so suddenly is quite disorienting.” 

“If I may ask, why did they switch you mid-year? Wouldn’t be better for me to take over the sixth grade classes?” you asked. 

“If you didn’t **notice** ,” the way he started almost sounded condescending, “the school is very understaffed. The school board must've thought to go easy on you by giving you an older grade.” You gave him a small nod in understanding, despite the fact that your gut told you that he was lying. 

You felt someone’s hand on the back of your chair. “Mr. Baldimore, you're picking on the newbie I see.” It was the principal. Baldi scratched the side of his cheek and laughed nervously, giving him an awkward crinkly-eyed smile. Lunch was pretty much over so you began to gather your things, as the two men spoke to one another, kind of trapping you from leaving. 

“(L/n), if you would drop by my office before you leave for the day,” your boss said in his usual passive voice. “S-sure,” you responded, rising from your seat as he stepped away, giving you the opening. 

“See you later Ms. (L/n).” Baldi said, bidding you farewell in his fake voice. You honestly didn't want to see him later, he made you uncomfortable with his constant staring and his voice changing like the flick of a switch did nothing but poke holes in the bottom your stomach. 

“Y-Yeah” You scurried off, laptop in hand, but you could still feel his eyes following your form out of the lounge. 

 

\--------

 

“ _Soooo how was your first day_?” 

Your friend Henry had been your best friend since kindergarten, and you've both come a long way. He sounded excited on the other line, which was typical every time  you spoke to him over the phone. It’s been a while since you both had seen each other as each of you were caught up in your own busy lives. 

“It was nothing I expected,” you sat on you couch in the living room, fondling the spiral cord that connected the phone to the dialer. You wore matching pajamas, fresh and new from the package, and your hair was up in a messy bun. The television in front of you was on no particular channel, providing background noise so you didn’t feel so alone in the house. 

“ _Really? How so_?” 

“I guess I expected the children to be more…  rowdy? They were all so quiet and nervous. I would’ve thought I was deaf if it wasn’t for the loud clock in the room” 

“ _Weird. Maybe they were just shocked to have a middle school teacher so pretty_.” 

You laughed at his statement. 

“ _It’s true! Do you remember the teachers we had? Just the thought of Mrs. Corden's face still gives me nightmares,_ ” he laughed as well. 

“The kids weren’t even the weirdest part,” you confessed, “it was their old teacher, Baldimore, he-he’s just so… weird. He wouldn’t stop staring at me during lunch like he wanted to kill me. I don’t know if it’s that he isn't self aware or just doesn’t give a shit.” 

“ _Do you think it’s because you stole his class?_” he joked. 

“He gave me this bullshit ass excuse that the school board was ‘going easy on me’ by giving me the senior grade. But my gut is telling me that it isn't that simple.” 

“ _It’s about time you started listening to your gut, I’ve been listening to mine and look where it’s got me-_ ” 

“When you listen to your gut you usually end up stuffed with food” 

“ _Alright, you got me there_.” 

You listened to the silence on the other end, content with knowing that he was there doing the same. “Oh no the time! I have school tomorrow!” you said rushing to turn off the T.V. Henry laughed at your revelation, “ _you sound like a kid._ ”  
“Oh shut up! I'll talk to you tomorrow okay?” 

“ _Yeah, yeah. Tomorrow_ ” 

“Good night” 

“ _Night_ ” 

You put the phone back in it’s proper place and turned off the light, but before you left the living room, the phone began to ring again. You half-thought it was Henry trying to bug you, so you just walked back without bothering to turn on the light and picked up the phone. 

Instead of hearing your friend’s familiar laughter, you heard nothing.

· · ·

“Hello?” you said, and as if the mic was being brought closer to its owner, you heard a soft, light noise. Like breathing. Heavy breathing. Suddenly your house got colder, and the hair on the back of your neck stood up.

The person on the other line gave shaky breaths, uneven, like they had run a marathon.

“...hello?” you repeated, and whoever it was on the other line sucked air through their teeth in response. It creeped you out, and they began breathing into the mic, heavier and desperate. It began to feel like they were breathing on your neck, their heat beating at the back of your head. “Uh, you have the wrong number, please don't call again.” 

Just as the phone left your ear you heard a groan and in a rush, you slammed the phone back in place. 

Anxiety was replaced with second-hand embarrassment once you realized what they were doing. 

 

From the call up until you went to bed, you just thought of scenarios in your head about what you would do if you accidentally called someone during........ _that_.  Even if they didn't know who you were, it would still be really embarrassing. You took a deep breath and turned off the light on your nightstand with a click, snuggling into your blankets and closing your eyes. 

" _Tomorrow is another day"_

**Author's Note:**

> Alright so that was Chapter One.  
> The reader might be a little submissive and anxious now, but I assure you, it's just for the purpose of character development. 
> 
> I hope you guys stick around for the chapters to come, so, peace!


End file.
